Reawakening

I savour the routine, peeling the clear plastic off the carton, flipping the lid and removing the foil, selecting a cigarette from the pack, lighting it, tasting the tobacco, breathing in the smoke. That feeling of inhalation is orgasmic. It brings back happy memories of my youth, a time when I was young, free and single. Sarah made me quit, said it was a filthy habit, and she wanted me to be healthy so that we could enjoy a long life together, a long, happy life of nagging and dull jobs and screaming children. It all comes flooding back, the joyous sensation that occurs when the smoke goes to your head and you experience a totally stress free moment. I watch the smoke dance upwards from between my fingers towards the roof of the bar. "Farang! You want nadda beer, yes?!" "Yes, one Singha please," I reply. "Small or large?" "Large." "And one for me, yes?! Ahahahaha!" "Go on then." The mamasang removes two large bottles of beer from a chest fridge in the middle of her bar and raises a toast to, "Richard ? the generous farang!"The bell rings. A fight is about to commence. A small boy walks up to me and holds out a bucket. I toss a few notes into it and he bows and scoots over to the next bar. A lean boy of about eighteen enters the ring first. He is toned to sheer perfection and there isn?t a hair on him. He does his stretches in an ostentatious manner, bending his lithe body into improbable positions. People drinking at some of the other bars that surround the ring begin to cheer as the challenger arrives ? a shorter, stouter boy with a podgy face and a bulbous neck and large shoulder muscles. What he lacks in grace, he certainly makes up for in bulk. This should prove to be an interesting duel. I remain seated at the bar, surrounded by beautiful women who stroke my arms and legs as I drink and smoke and observe the furious flurry of fists and elbows and knees that whizzes around the ring. I suck in the atmosphere along with the tobacco, cheering the thinner boy on as he prances around his clumsy foe. "Richard ? nadda beer?! Anna one for me hehehehehe!" the tubby mamasang with the comedy face chants at me. I flick my hand in acquiescence, not taking my eyes off the fascination spectacle unfolding before me, even as one of the girls puts her hand underneath my shirt and rubs my hairy chest. "King Kong!" she squeals. The girls giggle and talk about me in their native tongue, but I ignore them and watch my graceful boy getting pulverised by his stout counterpart. My lad is more skilful but nowhere near as powerful as his opponent, and he has been worn down by strong shots to his perfectly sculpted torso. He looks like he will Pendik Escort be finished off any moment, but his courage shines through as he weaves in and out, trying desperately to retain consciousness. A group of raucous Americans arrive from off the street at the other side of the circular bar, and the girls leave me and crawl over to them like a bunch of wailing seals. One stays seated next to me, rubbing my leg and giggling uncontrollably for no reason whatsoever. I turn to face her. "You alright there?" I ask. She doesn?t understand and looks away, still giggling. I seem to have acquired a delirious barnacle. The graceful boxer is on the ropes. The fatter fighter goes in for the kill. I wince as he brings his knee towards my boy?s face. It is like watching a snake dart towards a mouse. Yet just at that moment, my lad jumps swiftly out the way and performs the most insane jump kick I have ever witnessed, flattening his opponent with one fell swoop. I stand up and cheer loudly and my barnacle follows suit. When I sit back down, she is still attached to me. The victorious fighter does a lap of the bars, presenting himself to the comfortable and drunken tourists, bowing graciously when they reward him with money. When he comes to me I congratulate him and give him a large tip. He is extremely courteous and bows to me, smiling in a way that makes me feel like a little schoolgirl meeting a member of her favourite boy band. My barnacle jabbers something to him in her dialect and he replies in turn. They giggle a little and the fighter continues on his route. I let my eyes follow his progression to the next bar along where he bows down in front of some rowdy Geordies who were cheering him on. I admire his grace as he bends over, his back in a perfect arch as he unwittingly presents his bottom to my bar. My barnacle whoops with delight. I turn to her, smiling as she rubs my stiffening cock. My mobile phone starts beeping. You can?t escape, even when you?re halfway around the world. I throw the girl off of me, stub out my cigarette and jam my finger into my ear before answering. "Hey sweetie!" "Hello, Richard. How?s Shanghai?" Ah yes, Shanghai. I was actually there a few days ago. I sat in the airport reading Naked Lunch by William Burroughs as I waited for my connecting flight to Bangkok to arrive. "Shanghai is amazing, darling. I wish you were here to see it with me. The food is out of this world and the architecture is dazzling to say the least. There?s a real fusion of cultures here ? it?s a bit of a frontier town. Quite incredible, really. They?ve got us working our asses off trying to close Pendik Escort Bayan this deal with Ming?s people though, so unfortunately I?m stuck in the office struggling to communicate with Chinese people most of the time. I miss you, baby! How?re the kids?" "Molly?s got a cold and John?s tonsillitis is playing up again." My wife is a hypochondriac and the biggest worrier I?ve ever met, and she?s made our children like that too. Molly always has a cold and, contrary to what all the doctors say, John has most definitely had perpetual tonsillitis for the last five years. "That?s a shame, darling. I know it must be a burden to look after them all by yourself. I really wish I didn?t have to come here, but I just couldn?t get out of it. I?ll be back in one week?s time though." "I miss you so much." "I miss you too," I tell her. "OK, well I won?t spend too long on this line because it?s probably costing us a small fortune. Ring me from the office tomorrow, when it?s day time in China ? make those bastards pay for your call." "I will do, sweetie," I say. "Be careful, Richard." "I will." "Are you eating healthily?" "Yes," I sigh. "What did you eat today?" "Salad and noodles." "OK," she says dubiously. "Just be careful. I don?t want you getting into any trouble. I don?t know what I?d do if something happened to you." "I will." "Don?t eat the pork," she says. "I won?t." "And don?t use public transport. You could get killed on those roads." "OK." "And make sure you eat healthily." "OK." "And ring me tomorrow." "I will." "OK, bye Richard. I love you." "I love you too, darling." "Bye." "Bye." "Bye." "Bye." I hang up the phone before any more "byes" start getting thrown around. "Richard? Nadda beer?" I nod. The night passes by in a haze. My hosts certainly know how to keep me entertained. Whenever there is a gap between the fights, the girls play games of Connect 4 with me and the drunken mamasang murders Beatles songs for my amusement. When the fighting draws to a close and all the customers start leaving with girls, the mamasang says to me, "So who you want, Richard? You want Lao?" She points at the giggling maniac who felt my crotch earlier. I shake my head. "So who you want then?" I stay silent, contemplating something in my head. I keep thinking of that fighter bent over, the beads of sweat trickling down his smooth arched back, soaking the tight shorts that hugged his buttocks. "You no wanna girl?" ?How about a boy?? I ejaculate, scarcely believing the words have come from my mouth. "Ah, I see!" says the mamasang, her chubby face lit up as if she has finally worked out the meaning of life. Escort Pendik She lets out a shrill whistle and beckons to another mamasang who operates the next bar along. "You wait here, farang! Nadda beer?!" I nod. She takes one for herself too and adds them both to my tab, not even asking me any more. Now that I am left alone, the alcohol hits me like a great tide and I feel dizzy. I rest my head on the bar, tapping my foot against the floor and biting my nails, chain smoking all the while. Eventually I hear footsteps approaching. I turn around and see a shy young man of about seventeen or eighteen years walking apprehensively towards my perch. He is a few inches smaller than me and seems in pretty good shape. He has an athlete?s body rather than a weightlifter?s, but he is slightly chubby around the edges. Nicely rounded, I decide. He has short black hair and a pretty face, almost female ? a soft, flat nose; big, deep brown eyes, thin lips, high cheekbones. He is wearing a small tank top that shows off his body and a pair of low hanging jeans with holes in them. As he sits down next to me, a flash of pink briefs causes my penis to swell inside my jeans. "Hello, sah! Your name Richard? I am Chai. Please meet you." He offers his hand. When I shake it, I do not let go, holding onto it languidly. I look down dreamily at his hand in mine. It looks so small, engulfed by my large white fist. I look up into the deep pools of mystery in his eyes and I caress his beautiful face. "You are a very attractive young man," I tell him, unable to think of anything better to say. I imagine how awkward this would be were I sober. I lean in and kiss his soft cheeks. He lets his hands slide down to my thighs, well-practiced at this game. I kiss his forehead and his cheeks some more, nervously avoiding his lips, before breaking away from his embrace, feeling embarrassed and not wanting anyone to see us kissing. "Would you like to come back to my hotel room, Chai?" I ask. "Yes, Mr Richard!" I settle up with the mamasang, who winks at me conspiratorially, and we set off into the night. As we stroll silently along the Pattaya seafront, the breeze blowing our hair delicately, emboldened by alcohol I let my hand slide down onto his bottom. Underneath his jeans but not inside his pants, not yet. I take great pleasure in languidly gripping and stroking his buttocks, which are somehow firm yet soft at the same time. My hand fits perfectly around his left ass cheek, which I cup delicately, with my fingers pushing at the pink cotton between his ass cheeks. When we reach my hotel I let him lead the way up the stairs so that I can get a good look at that peachy ass. It wiggles invitingly in my face as he climbs the stairs slowly, the jeans hitched low enough for me to see the curves of his buttocks poking through the pink pants. I feel an impulse to bite it, and I do so. He lets out a surprised squeal and begins to walk quicker up the stairs.